


Fixed Upon the Glowing Sky

by Thistlerose



Series: 'Twould Be a Wildish Destiny [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Abduction, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aliens who kidnapped Jim five years ago are back with follow-up questions.  McCoy is not amused.</p>
<p>Note: This is not a new story (I wrote it in 2009). I just forgot to post it here! It's Part 2 of a 3-part series, which I finally got around to linking. Sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixed Upon the Glowing Sky

This time the Metrons had the courtesy – if you could call it that – to return him to his own quarters. So he was able to stop Bones before he could put the ship on red alert and run out into the corridor in nothing but his pajama bottoms, a medkit slung over his shoulder and bouncing against his hip.

"Hey," Jim said, trying like hell to pretend he wasn't a little amused by the sight. Bones just stared at him. In the dim light, his pupils were hugely dilated, the dark eyebrows pinched together above them giving him a half-lost, half- wildly determined look. Jim took a step toward him, noted the way Bones's breath skittered across his half-parted lips, and sobered abruptly. "Hey," he said again, lifting a hand toward a pale cheek.

Bones seemed to crumple. "Jesus Christ, Jim." He sank heavily against the edge of the bed, the medkit sliding from his shoulder and hitting the floor with a dull thud. 

"I'm sorry," said Jim.

"Sorry," Bones echoed tonelessly, his gaze cast downward. His hair spilled messily over his brow. " _You're_ sorry?"

Jim went and knelt before him, leaning close, trying to get him to make eye contact. But Bones was avoiding looking directly at him. Jim touched his thighs, felt the tension through the worn flannel of his pajama bottoms. "What were you going to do?" he asked, stroking gently, soothingly. 

"I dunno."

"Just hop into a shuttle, half-dressed, and pick a direction at random? Was that the plan?"

"I _don't know._ "

"How did you even know they'd taken me again? I thought you were asleep."

"I was," Bones said, still not looking at him. "I just … I don't know. One second you were snoring next to me, the next you were gone, and I just knew. I woke up and I knew you hadn't just gone to take a leak. I asked the computer to locate you, but … I knew." He inhaled sharply and then he seemed to come back to himself. His shoulders straightened and he brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Where's my goddamn medkit? I just had it. Need my tricorder…"

"It's okay," Jim said, pressing Bones's thighs and preventing him from getting up. 

"The hell it is. Get off the floor. How do you feel? What did they do to you this time?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. What did they show you?"

"Nothing, I told you. I did the showing this time. Bones." He caught Bones's chin and held it firmly until the short dark lashes lifted and the hazel eyes met his. Bones's jaw twitched rebelliously, but Jim didn't let go. "They won't be back," he said. "Not for me. This time _I_ did the showing." He waited. It seemed a long time before the rigid lines of Bones's face began to soften and relief flickered in his eyes.

"What did you show them?" he asked at length.

"For one thing? This." With his other hand, Jim stroked Bones's cheek, making sure he felt the warmth of his skin as well as the solid coolness of the ring on his finger. "Told them things had changed in the five years since our last meeting. That I didn't give a shit how omnipotent they fancied themselves … though I may not have used those exact words. It didn't matter what they thought, or _how_ they thought … or anything, really. They were welcome to treat with the Federation, but they'd better look out because someone was coming to find me. And he _would_ find me. And I was right."

He felt Bones's shaky breath against the heel of his palm. "You don't know that."

"I do," Jim whispered for the second time in five years. "Bones, I absolutely do. You might've shown up in half your pajamas. And barefoot. But you'd've kicked all their asses. I knew it. I know it. So do they."

Bones's lips twitched. It wasn't a smile, but it seemed possible that it might evolve into one eventually. Encouraged, Jim rose slowly. When he was standing, he tilted Bones's head back and kissed him. It was a soft, slow kiss, meant to reassure. But then he felt Bones sigh against him, felt the broad palms on his hips, and urgency tore through him. Fuck the Metrons. Fuck their superiority. Fuck them for yanking him out of his warm bed and for making Bones worry. He deepened the kiss, clamping his lips over Bones’s and sweeping his tongue over the roof of his mouth. Bones gave a low, hungry growl, his grip tightened, and then they were both tumbling.

“You’re in your pajamas too,” Bones observed when Jim finally broke the kiss. “Must’ve been an impressive sight.”

“Oh, I was.” Propping himself up on one elbow, Jim stroked the disheveled dark hair away from Bones’s brow. His fingers lingered at Bones’s temple, where a few silver strands were visible despite the dimness. He wondered how many were really his fault. “But then I’m not sure the Metrons know or care much about fashion. They wear pink togas.”

That elicited a smile, a real one. “Really?”

“Yeah. _Shiny_ pink togas.”

Bones slid a hand inside his pajama top and stroked his side. It was his left hand, and Jim shivered deliciously as the wedding band ghosted over his ribs. Strange the way perceptions can change over time, he thought as he lowered his lips back to Bones’s. He’d always believed in the bonds of friendship and love, even if, growing up, his experience had mostly been limited to books and holovids. He’d always believed in keeping oaths. But if someone had told him ten years ago that he’d be married by the time he was twenty-nine, and still happily married – to the same person – at thirty-four, he’d probably have laughed. 

But the band didn’t symbolize ownership, which was how he used to think of it, and why he’d once thought he’d never get married. Well, maybe it did for some people, but for Jim it was a talisman, a shining, solid reminder of Bones’s promise.

_You're not dying alone. You're not_ dying _, for fuck's sake. Not anytime soon. Not while I'm around. And I intend to be around. With you. For as long as we_ both _live._

And also, _I’d’ve found you somehow._

“I’d’ve found you,” Bones was saying now against Jim’s lips. His voice was low, reverent, as if he were speaking a prayer. His hands continued to move over Jim’s skin, tracing long, circular paths.

“I know,” Jim said. Moving within the circle of Bones’s arms, which was warmth, safety, _home_ , he breathed again, “I know.”

10/23/09


End file.
